


Afterthoughts

by Borlaaq



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Divine is there, Egg Laying, Frottage, Grimm is hormonal and a mess, Grimm is intersex and no one can convince me otherwise, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Asexual reproduction, Kinda, M/M, Masturbation, Oviposition, Porn with some plot, a lot of them just trying to comfort each other, awkward bugs in a fucked up situation, even if Grimm cares for him, i guess i should put that the relationship is meant to be onesided and Brumm knows it, more plot than i anticipated actually, trying her best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 02:40:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18379268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Borlaaq/pseuds/Borlaaq
Summary: “Drink, my friend. Forget.” And Brumm does.





	Afterthoughts

> I broke your heart so carelessly
> 
> But made the pieces part of me
> 
> And now it hurts what we've become
> 
> 'Cause you taught me how to love
> 
> It's me who taught you how to stop
> 
> And you just say I drink too much
> 
> **\- Sorry by Nothing but Thieves**
> 
>  

“Brumm, bring me my wine, please.”

The bug in question gives a bow and leaves the room swiftly. Grimm sighs, reclining back against the pillows that make up his bed in his private chambers. It’s dark, all candles out except a few, and he lets his eyes fall shut. He’s so tired and this part is always the hardest. But the Nightmare Lantern is waiting to be lit and the repeating dance must be set into motion.

His hand falls to his slightly swollen stomach and he shifts his hips to get comfortable. He’s laid eggs in every single one of his hundreds of previous lives and it never gets easier. But it’s a burden he is always more than willing to take on by himself. He couldn’t imagine tying someone else up in this part of it. Alone, with a child that is simply his and the Nightmare’s, no one else is hurt by his death.

He’s lying, course, and his eyes open to meet Brumm’s as he returns through the curtain, wine glass in hand. Grimm would always hurt his Troupe with his death but he can’t dwell on that. Brumm kneels to hand the drink to Grimm. He takes it and his claws linger on Brumm’s hand just a bit too long. He dwells on it anyway and has to look away from Brumm. That’s what the wine is for.

“Thank you, my friend,” Grimm’s voice rasps and Brumm pulls back to resume his post by the door. The two are silent as Grimm sips his wine, his gaze losing focus as he stares at the wallpaper. They’re both used to it and Brumm is one of the only ones that Grimm trusts to be close to him at these vulnerable moments. Finally, Grimm sets his glass down, hand rubbing his abdomen. “You are distant,” he says, eyes staring right through Brumm because he’s at the door and not next to him. It hurts.  

The musician hums lowly, shifting under Grimm’s gaze because he hurts too. “You never regret it.” It’s not a question when he finally speaks and Grimm’s hands pause against his stomach.

“Do you?” Grimm responds, his face and tone unreadable.

Brumm swallows and glances down, ashamed, “It’s hard to lose you. Again and again.”

“But I always come back.” Grimm chuckles then, laying his head back. He holds out his glass. Brumm kneels down to take it and Grimm’s claws stroke his hand. “Drink, my friend. _Forget_.”

And Brumm does.

-

Grimm thinks it’s easier when he’s drunk. He can blame it on the alcohol. He knows it’s just his hormones but that doesn’t make it any easier with his cock straining against his swollen stomach and his cunt aching.

He’s shaking in a cold sweat, the heat unbearable, and Brumm presses an iced cloth to his forehead. Grimm groans in pleasure and Brumm glances away. The waves of heat are coming faster now and they both know it’s because time is growing close.

“Do not hold it against me…” Grimm hisses, unable to deal with it any longer as he twists to press his claw against his erection.

“I never do,” Brumm mumbles and it makes Grimm smirk.

Grimm closes his eyes, letting his head fall back as he wraps his hand around his cock. He’s blaming the wine as a growls presses past his clenched fangs. He gives himself a slow jerk, hips rolls. His cock is already slick with precum and he’ll be embarrassed in the morning. For now, he rubs his claw over the tapered head and across each of his ridges, panting. He presses into his own hand, squeezing himself as he starts to pump his fist. His cock twitches in his grip and his cunt clenches around nothing. He groans, both frustrated and aroused. He shifts, pushing his hips up so he can wind his other arm to push a claw into his slit under his cock.

He knows Brumm is still in the room and it only makes him hotter. He feels bad, like he’s using Brumm but the musician just presses the cold cloth to his head again. Grimm doesn’t try to catch his gaze, he’s too ashamed, so, instead, he pushes his fingers deeper inside of himself and curls them. A snarl leaves his throat as he finds some release in the intrusion and he pumps himself in time with his fingers in his cunt. His claws aren’t nearly big enough for him but he makes do, arching his back and pressing himself into his own touch.

Grimm cums quickly. His body trembling before falling slack. Brumm leans over to wipe him off but he catches his wrist.

“You aren’t a slave.” Grimm’s voice has an edge to it. Almost desperation, almost panic.

Brumm frowns under his mask, “I’m here of my own free will, master,” he reassures him. Grimm lets out a shaky sigh and takes the cloth himself.

“Promise me if it ever becomes too much you will leave,” he says quietly as he cleans himself.

Brumm is silent for almost too long and Grimm’s chest tightens. He sets the cloth to the side, unable to look at the other bug. Then, finally, Brumm gathers Grimm’s limp body up close to him and Grimm burrows his face into his fur. “I can’t… won’t leave you. Not because I’m a slave but because I must admit I’m rather… attached to you.” There is a heavy pause and Grimm reaches out to draw Brumm down to him. He plucks Brumm’s mask away, pressing a kiss to his lips. Brumm kisses back slowly and, at that moment, everything is _okay_.

Finally, Brumm pulls back carefully and mumbles, “And you promised me you would always find me again.”

Grimm laughs but it’s sad. “Love is such a dangerous thing…”

Brumm can only hum in agreement as Grimm tugs him into another kiss.

-

Grimm isn’t the only one who gets too drunk as the time nears closer. He offers one too many drinks to Brumm, and as the days go on, Brumm is more willing to take them. He doesn’t want to think about what Grimm’s swelling stomach means; what the child inside means. He knows Grimm will come back and focuses on that. He uses the wine to forget the rest — the death, and the loneliness of the years in between now and then.

(The starting over is the worst part. The hoping, _praying_ , this Grimm will fall in love with him all over again. There is always a chance he won’t and Brumm can’t even begin to think of what would happen then.)

He shakes his head and Grimm tugs him into a heated kiss. He tastes like wine when he slips his tongue into Brumm’s mouth. And Brumm isn’t one to complain about the results of both of them being drunk on the alcohol and drunk on each other. Grimm’s hormones are all over and usually Brumm has more control than him but there are still times he finds himself giving in –

– Still times he doesn’t want to resist.

His mask is askew enough for him to press a kiss to Grimm’s heated carapace, his large hand wrapped around both of their cocks. Grimm’s claws are pulling at his fur, using it to muffle his moans. Brumm’s cock jerks at every sound and he can’t help but feel dizzy. Grimm’s hips lift, pressing his smaller erection closer to Brumm’s and he squeezes both of them. Brumm can’t help but groan when Grimm’s teeth manage to find his neck past his fur.                                                                                                                                                     

“Brumm, please, I want you inside of me…” Grimm pants, his breath hot, burning, against his neck. Brumm leans his head to the side, shuddering when Grimm’s tongue meets his shell. His cock swells at Grimm’s words and he pumps his fist around them.

“Master… we’ve been over this before. I’ll hurt you when you’re this far along…” Brumm’s voice is labored and he can barely think past the heat and the wine but he knows this answer because he’s practiced it so much. They’ve tried before because Brumm couldn’t always say no to Grimm (– and even now it’s hard with Grimm pressed against him and his cock hot and dripping in his hand).

Grimm growls, thrusting up into Brumm’s hand in desperation. His ridges catch on Brumm’s erection and he lets out a low moan, moving his hand in earnest against them. Brumm moves his other hand to try and hold down Grimm’s hips as he jerks against him but Grimm catches his wrist and presses it against his wet slit. A hiss escapes Brumm’s throat and he allows himself to press a finger inside of Grimm’s cunt. The taller bug groans, grinding down against Brumm’s hand instead. Brumm’s head spins as he tries to keep both of his hands moving in sync but Grimm is distracting and Brumm’s cock _aches_. He squeezes them both and curls his finger. He doesn’t dare try and push another in when Grimm’s stomach is so swollen but it's so hard with him dripping onto his palm.

“Relax…” Brumm mumbles and Grimm practically _whines_. It makes Brumm growl, low and desperate, as he moves his hand even faster. Brumm savors these moments where Grimm is so willingly to come undone. They are rare, even around Brumm, who sees Grimm let his walls down more than most, but even then the Troupe Master manages to keep some air of authority and poise. There’s pride there for Brumm when Grimm’s facade finally slips and it’s easy to forget why Grimm’s hormones are burning so hot (– and Brumm wants to forget so bad what it means).

Grimm’s fangs graze Brumm’s neck and he shivers. They’re both close and Brumm knows how Grimm gets when he’s about to cum. He hums to give Grimm approval and Grimm lets out a growl in response. His cunt is clenching around Brumm’s finger and he presses it just a bit deeper to rub his g-spot. Grimm’s hips jerk sharply and he muffled the sound of his orgasm by sinking his teeth into Brumm’s neck. The feeling draws out Brumm’s own release and he grits his teeth, holding both of this cocks together as he feels them both cum together. Once Grimm pulls his mouth away from Brumm’s neck, he sighs, nuzzling into Brumm’s fur. Brumm untangles himself from Grimm and holds him until his body stops quivering.

“We need a bath now,” Brumm says after.

Grimm chuckles tiredly, looking up at Brumm before his eyes focus on his mask. He reaches up to grab it away from him completely. “No masks in the bedroom. We’ve discussed this.”

Brumm hums lowly, bowing down to kiss Grimm, “Sorry,” he mumbles against his lips before picking Grimm up in his arms to carry him to his private bath.

“You spoil me, love,” Grimm purrs.

“You’re just filthy,” Brumm counters and Grimm laughs.

-

Once Grimm has fallen asleep, Brumm finds himself outside of the tent to get some fresh air. He’s stressed, on edge, and _hurt_. It always hurts. He looks down at his accordion, trying to focus on the sound of his music instead. He can’t figure out if it’s him that’s making the notes sound off or the instrument. He frowns under his mask.

“How is he?” Divine’s voice makes him jump. He hadn’t heard her come out. She gives a soothing sound in response, reaching over to brush some dried blood from his fur with her claw. His neck is sore, but she keeps her comments about the wound to herself. It’s not new to her at this point. She knows how Grimm gets and to say she didn’t get hungry too would be a lie. They all need the extra soul and they all indulged in different ways. If Grimm wasn’t currently carrying the child she would make a remark just to see Brumm fluster but she knows when not to overstep herself. Most of the time, at least.  

He watches her light her pipe and looks back down at his instrument. It probably could be tuned. Again. For the fourth time just this night. “Good. Should be a few more days or perhaps a week.”

Divine blows out halos of smoke before looking at Brumm pointedly. “Ahh, but what about _you_ , lovely?”

There is a heavy pause and Brumm makes a point of starting to tune his accordion. Again. Divine huffs because she can tell it’s already been tuned several times.

“I’m fine.” He says finally, letting out a sigh as he puts his accordion away. His hands feel empty.

Divine tuts quietly, reaching out to lift his chin carefully with her claw. “You do so much for us. For our master. He loves you deeply.”

Brumm avoids her gaze. “I know.” It’s not a lie. He _does_ know. But that doesn’t make it easier. That doesn’t change that Grimm still chooses to continue this cycle. Grimm is putting Brumm second and that’s understandable. But Grimm is also putting _himself_ second and that's worse.

“Do you remember what he promised you in return for your service?” She asks, taking another inhale from her pipe. She watches him lose himself in his memories, eyes behind the mask becoming glazed. She smiles.

“An escape. A…home.” He replies after a moment.

“You have that and more.”

“Do not take my state for regret,” Brumm snaps and it startles him. He bows his head in apology.

Divine laughs, “Ah, no, lovely. Not what I meant at all. No, no. Don’t ever lose sight of the _why_. You are free to leave, of course, but I imagine, even then, you would only feel more empty.”

She is right and Brumm swallows. Another pause as she blow out smoke. It twirls around them. “What about you, Divine?” He realizes he’s never asked why she joined.

Divine lowers her pipe. “A child,” she says quietly. “I am barren, you see. Not even my own was needed. I’ve been given the whole Troupe to care for. Every Grimmchild. Every Grimmkin. Master spoils us, really.”

He takes her words in and she’s right. Grimm gives them much. “Thank you.”

Divine just watches him, her visible eye sad. She puts out her pipe and turns back to the tent entrance. “Ah, no, thank _you._ For watching over our master.” He nods at her as she passes, her claw grazing his shoulder in attempt to comfort. She pauses, holding the flap out of her way and looks away from him. “And I am sorry, lovely. So sorry.”

-

Grimm shifts uneasily against his pile of pillows as Brumm places more under his legs.

“Anything else?” Brumm asks, looking over everything except his Master’s face of discomfort.

“ _Wine_ ,” Grimm rasps, one hand practically ripping the fabric of his bed and the other pressed against his abdomen.

Brumm sighs, kneeling down, “Not until _after_ , Master.”

Grimm growls, teeth clenched as a wave of heat and pain rolls over him. He tosses his head back. “Ale, then.”

“ _Grimm_.” The use of his name makes him look up, pinpricks of pink tears at the corners of his eyes. Brumm puts his hand on Grimm’s knee, both as comfort and to help him keep his legs spread. “I’ll have Divine get you your favorite once you’re done.” Brumm finally relents, fingers rubbing the skin behind his knee. Grimm shudders at the touch.

“The strawberry kind?” Grimm chuckles but its cut off with a hiss as another contraction hits. He shifts up on his pillows, trying to sit up straight. He can’t concentrate.

“Breathe.”

“Oh, _please_ , do not tell me how to lay an egg. I’ve done it for over a hundred lifetimes and half of them _you’ve been here for_.” He shudders and then adds, “Sorry, love. Just. Water. Please.”

Brumm laughs lightly, giving Grimm’s knee a squeeze as he gets up to fetch a glass. He brings it back to Grimm, and helps him by pressing it to his lips. Grimm drinks quickly and when the glass is empty Brumm sets it aside. He looks over everything again, making sure it’s all in place.

Another contraction and Grimm snarls, his hand now pressing hard against his stomach. His shell is softened and Brumm mentally counts the time until the next wave. The pressure inside Grimm is only intensified by the _heat_. The pain is there but it’s only a spark compared to the arousal his hormones are pumping into his veins. His head spins and the whole ordeal is confusing. Always. He groans, head falling forward.

“How is your soul, Master?”

“Low but I am fine,” his response is clipped through his labored breathing. His hand pressed against his abdomen again and the egg shifts lower. A hiss leaves his lips and his legs shake. And it would feel so damned _good_ if not for the cramping.

“No. Take some of mine,” Brumm holds out his wrist. Taking Soul from another Troupe member isn’t efficient and they both know it but with no one else around for Grimm to feed from, their options are limited. Usually Grimm would be fine until the next show to feed off the energy of the crowd but the Ritual and all it entails comes first.

“Brumm…” Grimm growls, his eyes dilated. He doesn’t, won’t, look at Brumm’s outstretched arm. His lets out a strained hiss again as another wave hits. Oh, and he wants to bite him so bad that he feels his cock jerk, threatening to come completely out of his slit.

“Don’t make it harder on yourself,” Brumm’s voice is stern and then adds, barely above a whisper, “Don’t make it harder on _me_.”

A sharp gasp leaves Grimm’s throat, like he had been holding his breath. “Damn it, Brumm,” he growls but it’s not angry. He takes Brumm’s hand and kisses his palm up to his wrist. Brumm nods, meeting his gaze, and Grimm bites down. Brumm winces but relaxes when he feels Grimm’s tongue trace the wound. His colors brighten and a small sigh leaves him. It’s a brief comfort before another contraction rocks his body. The new energy gives him strength to push along with it and feeling the pressure of the egg move makes him hiss. He smooths his hand down his abdomen, pressing lightly, and he can feel the heat through his shell from the egg.

He isn’t sure what is pain and what is pleasure anymore.

A moan presses past his grit teeth and he pushes again, using the palm of his hand to help guide his egg down. It slips lower, now pressing against his nerves. He has to pause to catch his breath, cock now fully erect and dripping.

“Brumm,” he manages, voice hoarse. The musician jumps, startled, but moves to kneel in front of Grimm. The egg hasn’t started to breach yet, but it’s close and Brumm makes sure there’s enough pillows below. He reaches over to squeeze Grimm’s hand.

“The strawberry ale is waiting,” Brumm teases and Grimm can’t help but chuckle quietly. He feels another contraction coming and angles his hips slightly. There’s a sting of pain as he’s stretched but the pleasure of the egg passing over his sensitive nerves makes him shudder. It presses hard against his g spot as it moves to leave him and he can’t help but snarl as he cums. The force of the orgasm helps press the egg out. He can feel it start to poke out of his opening and, with a slight hiss, he gives the final push. It falls to the cushions beneath him with a rush of fluid and he collapses against his bed in exhaustion.

Brumm reaches for the egg, wiping it off before he hands it to his master. It’s hot and glows red in the dim lighting. He makes sure the shell is intact and firm all around. There’s a pang of admiration in Brumm’s heart, of love, and it only grows stronger when he sees Grimm reach out for his child, eyes shining. Brumm laughs lightly, handing over the egg. Grimm sighs, eyes lidded, as he takes it and wraps it in his cape.

Brumm stands to leave. His work is done for now.

“Stay,” Grimm’s voice is low, barely audible. Brumm freezes with his back towards the room, towards Grimm.

“M-master?” He mumbles, unsure if he had heard correctly. He glances over his shoulder and Grimm just holds out his arm.

“Please,” Grimm whispers, a bit louder, and with a smug smirk. Brumm hums lowly, moving back towards him before Grimm adds, “No masks, remember?” He pauses to carefully remove the mask, setting it to the side before going to join Grimm in bed. Grimm cuddles up next to him, his egg between them and a purr escapes him. Brumm holds them both close and, at that moment, everything is perfect. There is no room for afterthoughts. No room for regrets. With Grimm and the child in his arms, he forgets.


End file.
